


Pet Me/Kiss Me

by MindStaticIncarnate



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Boys Kissing, Dry Orgasm, Head pats, Implied/Referenced Incest, Kissing, Len Thinks Too Much, M/M, Male Slash, Oliver Wants To Be Loved, Sexual Content, Slash, Stroking, Yohioloid Is An Asshole, petting, technically not sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:47:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28818018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MindStaticIncarnate/pseuds/MindStaticIncarnate
Summary: In order to get closer to his crush Oliver, Len takes some advice from Yohioloid and things don’t go the way he expected.AKA Oliver likes being petted a liiiiiiittle bit too much.
Relationships: Kagamine Len/OLIVER
Comments: 12
Kudos: 14





	Pet Me/Kiss Me

**Author's Note:**

> I just love the idea of unusual stimulations triggering unusual responses and I love even more the idea of Oliver absolutely melting while being pet by Len, soooooooo this was made lol
> 
> Gimmie more Oliver being pet!! Pet the boy goddamnit!! I would literally read 10,000 words of just this one thing, no sexual themes at all \grabby hands\
> 
> But really. I feel bad for people who underestimate the power of being pet because they’ve obviously never been pet. :(((

His bangs were sticking up, and not in the places they were supposed to. Len couldn’t help a little growl at his reflection in the hallway mirror. Of course whenever he was in a good mood, his hair had to ruin it. _This effortlessly tousled look takes so much damn effort._

“Dolling up for a date?”

Len’s eyes narrowed. Only one person had that constant annoyingly self-assured lilt in their voice and it was definitely not someone he liked. 

“Don’t you have someone else to annoy, Yohioloid?” Len asked without splitting his attention from his bangs in the mirror. 

“Don’t you have to be meeting with Oliver at practice room 2-C in five minutes?” came Yohioloid’s response. It sounded like he was talking around smug cotton balls. _So annoying!_

“How do you—“ Len glanced up and blue and red clashed in the mirror as he met eyes with Yohioloid over his shoulder. “Never mind. Explaining that won’t make you sound less creepy and stalkerish.”

“You have a crush on him.” Yohioloid grinned. 

Len turned around and crossed his arms, pretending there wasn’t a heat growing in his face. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s written all over you.” Yohioloid’s finger shot up and bounced and danced in Len’s vision as he pointed. “There and there and there and there.” He intentionally pointed too close and jabbed one of Len’s blushing cheeks with his index finger. “And definitely there.”

Len slapped his hand away. “With all due respect, go dig yourself a hole and sit in it.”

“I know a way for you two to get closer.” 

The look on Yohioloid’s face wasn’t one Len liked. Not one micromolecule of a bit. He almost looked like a predator with those narrow eyes and leering smile. 

And yet—

“Stop pretending like you want to help me.” Len started to leave, purposely squeaking his shoe on the tile. 

And yet—

“Stop pretending like you don’t want to hear what I have to say.”

Len halted. _SO annoying._

“Compliment his hair,” started Yohioloid. 

“Seriously?” Len pivoted to make sure Yohioloid could see the full doubtful, judging look on his face. “Anyone could do that.”

Yohioloid clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Don’t interrupt your elders.”

“I have seniority over you.” _If this guy wasn’t insured I would strangle him._

“Yet I’ve known Oliver longer.” Yohioloid tilted his head, condescending. “So that’s not exactly true in this case.”

Len remained silent. _So. Damn. Annoying._

“As you compliment him, touch his hair.” Yohioloid mimed the motion, stroking his hand through the air in an almost slimy gesture. Len felt like shaking himself, but wouldn’t give Yohioloid the satisfaction. 

“He’s always wearing that hat, though,” said Len. 

“Take it off.”

“He wouldn’t let me—“

“It doesn’t matter if he lets you.” Yohioloid snickered, his lips curling. “It’s not like he’ll pull away or say no when he likes you so much.”

_The absence of a no still isn’t a yes—Wait. Fuck. What?_

“Oliver likes me?” The words felt so foreign, and yet so... natural.

Yohioloid guffawed at Len’s incredulous question. “For someone stuck in his own head so much, it’s laughable how dense you are.”

Len ignored the jab as he repeated, “Oliver likes me? Did he tell you that?”

“Simply pet him on the head and don’t stop no matter what. You want him. And this way, you’ll get him.”

“How do you know? And why are you telling me?”

Yohioloid’s expression suddenly became sinister. Len unconsciously took a step back but was shocked when Yohioloid smiled. A real (or at least genuine-looking), eye-softening smile that looked like it belonged on a person who actually had a soul. 

“I’ll let you wonder.” Yohioloid waved over his shoulder as he left. 

On his way to the practice room, Len did wonder. He couldn’t help it. Yohioloid and Oliver were brothers, but sometimes they seemed to know a little _too_ much about each other. So much so that once, the Master had to make a semi-public announcement to ensure that he had never allowed an incestuous relationship to happen under his command, and that he never would. The Master never mentioned names in any of his announcements, yet everyone knew just why they were made. 

It was common knowledge that romantic relationships that involved any Vocaloid had to be okayed by him before going public. That didn’t stop people from whispering about what happened behind closed doors, though. 

Len couldn’t understand why some rumors refused to be stamped out. 

He could more than easily imagine someone like Yohioloid being part of an amoral, taboo relationship, but Oliver? Darling, shy, innocent Oliver? With his eyes like sweet caramels and freckles like angel’s kisses? Just thinking of him lightened Len’s steps. There was no way. Len refused to even begin to entertain the thought. 

Oliver was like a balmy, fragrant garden with fresh flowers, pure and clean and full of sunshine. And Yohioloid... He was a rank, rotting tree with gnarled limbs and festering, putrid fruit hanging low and dangerous. 

_He’s trying to embarrass me_ , Len decided. _If I take Oliver’s hat and pet him, it’s not like some miracle will make him fall for me. I’ll just make him uncomfortable and humiliate myself. Yohioloid is such a jerk._

He reached the door labeled 2-C, and the moment he entered the practice room his sour mood lifted. His heart fluttered and he beamed as he saw Oliver sitting across the room. Len could physically feel his body relax at the sight of his friend, his crush. 

Oliver didn’t notice as he was intently studying the sheet music, an adorable crease between his brows as his mouth silently shaped vowels in the lyrics. _Oh, ee, ah..._

He hadn’t bothered to put on his bandages since it technically wasn’t a workday, the thin scar traveling from his hairline to his lower jaw visible. And even though he was in casual clothes like Len, his hat was still snug on his head. He really did never take it off. Len couldn’t remember a single time he saw Oliver without it, or even if there was a time like that to remember. Stealing Oliver’s hat felt wrong on so many levels. Yohioloid really was—

Oliver noticed him standing there and lit up with a gorgeous smile. “Len!” The next moment was like he became suddenly embarrassed by his excitement and he hid his smile with the sheet music. His eyes still sparkled over the paper’s edge. 

Yohioloid’s words echoed in Len’s head. ‘He likes you so much.’

_But is that true?_

“All set to duet?” Oliver asked as he set the music on a stand, then laughed behind his hand at his rhyme. 

Len’s heart squeezed. Oliver was just so precious. 

Even though his words were soaked with ulterior motives Len couldn’t figure out, Yohioloid was right about one thing. Len wanted to be closer to Oliver, more than anything in the world. Before he knew it he had snatched Oliver’s hat. 

“Len?” Oliver raised his hand, like he had anticipated Len’s actions a heartbeat too late. His wide eyes stared up, but neither angry nor upset. “Hey—“

“Your hair looks really soft,” Len found himself saying. 

Oliver’s raised hand found its way to the nape of his neck. “Oh, th,thank you,” he stuttered out, his gaze averted. How every action this boy took could be so demure and yet alluring fascinated Len. 

_Cute._

It dimly registered that Oliver didn’t look very surprised that Len had taken his hat, but seemed almost… expectant? 

_‘He likes you so much.”_

“Do you mind if I...?” Len brushed the back of his hand over Oliver’s hair. He didn't hear Oliver’s response as he was instantly lost in the sensation. 

_Oh, God. It’s so soft._

Like petting a cloud, or the world’s most expensive blanket, or a pillow only royals were allowed to rest their crowned heads upon. Len told himself he would simply pet Oliver once and give back his hat, but he found himself stroking Oliver’s hair again and again.

_So soft! He’s like an angel…_

It was like hat hair didn’t exist for this perfect boy. Minutes ticked by in seconds, Len was so utterly entranced by how indescribably soft Oliver’s beautiful golden halo was. He didn’t realize what was happening until he heard a quiet whine.

“L,Len, please...”

He looked to Oliver’s face. 

**_Oh, God._**

Oliver’s expression tugged at Len’s stomach, his heart, his throat, his lungs. Oliver’s face flushed crimson and his eyes screwed shut. His hands gripped his shirt over his stomach and soft, cracked whimpers escaped his throat as tears beaded on those pale lashes. 

Len froze as the most fearfully ridiculous thought popped into his brain:

_Is it possible to molest someone just by touching their hair?_

His concern was lifted as Oliver peered up through his melted caramel eyes and whispered though trembling lips. “Please.... m,more.....”

A bolt of excitement shot up Len’s spine. 

“Like this?” He dropped Oliver’s hat and raised his other hand to bury it in Oliver’s shining, fluffy locks, petting him with abandon. Oliver's knees shook and Len took several steps forward, Oliver stumbling with him, to brace the shorter boy against the wall. 

“I was dreaming th,that you, you would do this one d,day...” Oliver’s lips parted as he panted and his eyes rolled back as Len scratched behind his ears. “H,ah...”

Len rubbed long strokes along the sides of Oliver’s head, gauging Oliver’s nearly erotic reactions. He looked as though Len had his mouth on his dick and not hands on his head. 

All this from simple petting?

_So this is why Oliver never parts with his hat..._

All the Vocaloids were nearly indistinguishable from humans, but they were still androids. They had their quirks, sprinkled in as the result of spontaneous decisions of their programmers and developers. What horny freak in Oliver’s development gave him this feature? Oliver had been slowly artificially aged over the years like other popular Vocaloids and was now seventeen, much like how Len had grown four years over the thirteen since his release. 

But the thought of a twelve year old Oliver having these same reactions to being pat on the head— 

Len immediately shut down the train of thought as his mind chimed _no, gross, gross, disgusting, no, disgusting, no, gross._

However, Len silently thanked whoever it was. Because of them, he got to witness Oliver positively falling apart before him. 

Oliver let out a loud, short moan and it sent shivers down Len’s spine. He arched his back and slipped one hand to the back of Oliver’s neck. Suddenly his mouth was on Oliver’s and— 

Their teeth audibly clicked as Len drew back. A curl of disgust had squeezed Len’s stomach, interrupting the heated moment. 

Oliver made a disappointed noise as Len’s hands left his head. Len pressed Oliver to his chest with one hand on the back of his shoulder and the other on the small of his back. He laid his cheek on the top of Oliver’s head and listened as Oliver slowly began to collect himself as proven by the gradual steadying of his breathing. 

The only reason Len was getting to kiss Oliver now was because of Yohioloid. How had Yohioloid known? Did those rumors actually have truth to them? Had Yohioloid held Oliver in his arms just like this before? Had Yohioloid drawn out these same glorious sounds and watched as his own brother became a quivering, begging mess beneath his roaming hands?

_And had Oliver wanted it……?_

He didn’t know which answer was worse. 

A breathless “Len?” jolted him from his thoughts. Oliver had looked up, his cheek smushed against Len’s chest, a bit of confusion showing at Len’s suddenly clumsy actions. 

Len had frozen. There was no way he could say, ‘Sorry, I was thinking about your older brother fucking you.’ And it wasn’t like ‘I’m treating literal impossibilities as feasible’ sounded any better. 

Oliver revealed the wrong conclusion he had reached as he whispered almost shyly, “Len.... It’s okay. I want this. I really, I really like you.” 

Len could’ve melted into a puddle on the floor right then and there. _This boy really is an_ _angel._

Oliver’s slender hand lifted to cup Len’s cheek and that little crease between his brows appeared again as he timidly confessed. “I want you to pet me. Your hands feel, they feel so good. I want you t,to kiss me.”

 _He said it first. He likes me. He likes me. He likes me!_ “I like you too…!” Len couldn’t help the joyful laugh as it awkwardly bubbled out. “And I, I wanna kiss you back. I have for _so long_.”

“Please,” Oliver softly giggled. “Pet me, kiss me, anything you want. I want it too.”

They both continued to laugh around the second kiss, another awkward meeting of mouths that lasted less than a second. 

The charmed third time lived up to its name. This kiss was warm and open-mouthed, long and sweet and turned into several, each one a desperate attempt to make up for lost time. 

Len felt his body lift, float, heat, dazzle. He would’ve begun to grind against Oliver to chase that pleasure but the thought of Yohioloid doing the exact same wouldn’t leave his head. To his immense frustration, it stuck. His arousal had fled from his poisonous direction of thought and no way would it return, no matter what a turn-on how ridiculously attractive yet innocent Oliver was. And Oliver was definitely innocent, as he gasped between kisses instead of breathing through his nose. 

Len elected to ignore his own body’s reactions from that moment and focused entirely on Oliver. Focused on the fact that Oliver returned his love he once thought was unrequited. Focused on making Oliver feel as good, as loved, as anything. 

He threaded his fingers into Oliver’s unbelievably soft tresses once more. Oliver happily sighed and let him. Len combed his fingers from the top of Oliver’s head down to the nape of his neck and repeated this motion, alternating hands and pressure. 

Oliver truly was a beautiful garden. His cheeks were two blooming roses, and his sweat was morning dew on his taunt brow. His arms were like vines how they wrapped around Len’s neck. Len couldn’t help a cocky smile as he thought, _I would love to plant my seeds in this “garden.”_

Len gently tugged on a handful of stands and steadily, tenderly pulled Oliver’s head back by his hair, exposing his neck. His tongue darted out to taste the flesh there before he pressed his lips to Oliver’s throat and felt the vibration as Oliver hummed with satisfaction. 

Len’s kisses traveled from Oliver’s throat to the side of his neck, his earlobe, his jaw, the beginnings of his scar, as he continued to pet Oliver’s head. He drew back when he tasted salt. 

The tears that had been building in those lovely caramel eyes trickled down Oliver’s red cheeks. It wasn’t surprising that Oliver would be crying, he was the type to weep at kittens for being so damn tiny. Len gently kissed the tears away. “Good tears?” he checked anyway.

Oliver nodded feverishly. His thighs pressed together as he squirmed, those sweet little gasps and hitches in his breath playing symphonies on Len’s heartstrings. 

Len swirled his fingers over the top of Oliver’s head, miraculously not running into any knots or tangles. 

“F,Further back,” Oliver murmured. “A little, l,little more.”

Len dutifully followed Oliver’s quaking voice, giving him ghostly butterfly kisses as he used his nails to lightly scratch where Oliver instructed. 

“To the left, please, t,to the.... more....”

_There._

Oliver’s knees buckled as he let his entire weight fall against Len. He craned his neck as his head incessantly pressed towards the touch and his arms curved to grab fistfuls of the back of Len’s jacket. 

“Oh, God, Len, _there_ ,” he groaned. “ _Right there.”_

With his thumbs, Len rubbed deep circles on the spot on Oliver’s scalp, massaging it sensually. He listened with an electric feeling to the increased gasps and breathy moans that fell on his ears like music. Oliver’s frame trembled as he uttered incoherent pleas under his breath. 

_More_. . .

Len drove his knee between Oliver’s weak legs. His smirk grew as Oliver cried out lightly and seized Len’s hips, alternating between attempts to push him away and pull him closer. He could feel Oliver’s cutely shaking thighs relaxing and tensing around his own, his lithe body pressing into Len’s warmth.

“Am I making you feel good?” Len whispered, unrelenting in his loving caresses. As if Oliver’s gratified sighs and eyes glazed with pleasure were no indication. 

He went for a quick kiss and broke from it as Oliver’s fingers curled to clutch at the bottom of Len’s jacket and he made a small gasp of lightheadedness. 

“Is that a yes?”

“Len...” Oliver’s eyelashes fluttered as another breath caught in his throat. “Yes. _God, yes._ Don’t stop. D, _don’t st-a,a_ h...!”

A sudden gasp ripped from his mouth and his hips jolted. His hands flew up Len’s back to grab at his shoulders. Oliver trembled violently for a heart wrenching moment, an expression of intense need passing over his face. His head fell back and he cried out, a song with no words or melody. Len felt his heart skip a beat as he watched Oliver’s orgasm overwhelm his body, knowing that he had been the cause of it, trying to commit this moment to memory, naming himself the luckiest person in the world to be able to witness this. 

“Oh… Len…” Oliver slumped against Len, his high passed, breathing heavily, and Len’s hands fell from his crown to cradle him in his arms. 

Oliver was more than a little disheveled, his hair mussed and his sweater hanging crooked. But his face was relaxed, content as he looked up. His darkened eyes looked almost blurred, hazy from pleasure. He breathed shakily from his climax. 

“Feeling okay?” Len pressed a kiss to Oliver’s forehead, then temple. 

Oliver almost purred in reply, warmly tucked against Len’s chest. “ _More_ than okay.”

Len helped Oliver to a chair, off his wobbly legs, and retrieved his water bottle from where he left it by the door. Before he could offer it to Oliver, or even turn around, he was hugged from behind. Once again, Oliver had most of his weight propped up against Len, who didn’t mind one bit. 

Oliver mumbled something Len couldn’t quite catch. 

“What was that?”

“Will you come to my room... tonight?”

The real request was unspoken. Oliver had reached his hand around Len’s waist, a little lower than needed, brushing Len’s belt with heavy implications. Oliver’s earlier words were looping in Len’s brain. 

_I was dreaming that you would do this one day._

_(I want you to pet me.)_

_(I want you to kiss me.)_

And just what else had Oliver been dreaming of?

“To think,” Oliver whispered, “my secret would be discovered first by the only person I wanted to know.”

The warmth in Len’s chest was offset by a cold creeping. He completely missed Oliver’s sheepish mumble, “I want… to make you feel this good, too…”

He discovered Oliver’s secret.

First. 

First?

_How the fuck did Yohioloid know about this?  
_

“Will you be there...?” A note of anxiety permeated Oliver’s tone. Len had been silent for too long. 

The cold stirring of unanswered questions and looming secrets felt like a dead hand on his shoulder, but he held onto the delighted, excited flutter in his stomach almost desperately— _I won’t, I can’t let Yohioloid ruin this_ —as he repeated, “Yes. Yes I will.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in two days though haven’t written like this in a looooong while. So talk to me, friends! Tell me what you think! Ask questions! Even make jokes about how Oliver is like a puppy wanting good head pats! Someone stop my brain from getting the blue screen of death lmfaoooo
> 
> —Minic


End file.
